The Long Winter
by riddermarkmick
Summary: The Long winter, Helm's fall and Frealaf's rise - please R
1. Retreat to the Deeping Valley

Disclaimer: I own nothing that was created by Prof. Tolkien all the places and peeps are his. I am a mere story teller trying to do some work  
  
Summary: The King Helm leads his men in The Hornburg.  
  
It was a sad day in Rohan. The weather was turning exceptionally cold. The snow was piling up by the foot; even more snow than normal for the mountainous regions of the county. What would become known as "The Long Winter" took place in Third Age 2758-2759 before spring would thaw their lands.  
  
The people of Edoras and The West-fall have been trekking hard in the cold. Such a long march would not normally be the way the horse-lords would like to travel, but only some soldiers were still properly mounted on horseback. Despite the long faces and the darkening hearts the people of The Mark were still hopeful that they would hold last. Never before had their capitol fell, never before did they fear their own overthrow. Yet still, they had strength within them. For they had Kin Helm, known to many as Hammerhand.  
  
Helm was the ninth king of the Riddermark. He was a man of great strength and stature. He truly was Royal in his bearing, and his eyes told of confidence and power. He had lost both of his sons's in the war with the Dunlandings. His closest relative was his nephew, Frealaf. Yet, the war he was fighting was of a powerful enemy, an enemy driven solely by revenge.  
  
"Wulf, feels that he can capture us in the Deeping Valley," Helm said with anger. He continued, "But his wild beast-men will not have the power to break our fortress here in the valley. Helm had reason to be confident. Wulf was the son of Freca, a distant relation and a man thought to have Dunland blood in his veins. Freca was struck down with one blow by Helm when he tried to force him to marry off the king's daughter to his son. For it was this death that had Wulf run to Dunland and raise an army to avenge his father for the supposed "wrong" done him.  
  
Wulf's attack had been swift and deadly. Many have already perished and all of Rohan was seemingly overrun. However, the people of the Mark would prove to be as strong as their stouthearted king. They still had soldiers and many were willing to fight. Now they came to the Deeping valley where the mighty fortress, the Hornburg, would protect them.  
  
As the gates closed behind them, Frealaf gazed at his uncle with a look of fear and said, "Does this not mean we are to be trapped uncle?" Helm, turning with the wind blowing through his hair as if it stood by the force of his own confidence said, "The animal is driven by his own thirst for revenge upon me, behind these walls he will not be able to get to me." Helm's face turned red and he whispered, "his soul will be more besieged than we."  
  
To be continued. 


	2. A Second Death

Disclaimer: I still own none of the characters in the story. I am just borrowing them =).  
  
Chapter 2: Wulf and Hama  
  
Of Helm's sons thought to be dead, Hama was still alive, but barely. Hama was with his father during the retreat to the Deeping Valley. However, he was separated during an attack of the pursuing Wild-men. During the attack, Hama went down severely wounded and there was no time to retrieve him. Helm thought his son dead. However, Wulf did not have him killed, at least not yet.  
  
Hama was taken to the Edoras and he was continually beaten, but not killed. "You are lucky to be alive," the grinning Wulf whispered to him. "The throne of the Mark belongs to me," the wicked man continued, "I shall marry your sister and then you will die." Hama, barely able to talk out of his swollen mouth replied, "You are to be damned before you marry my sister you beast." Wulf laughed and left the room.  
  
Hama endured his beatings and verbal attacks for a couple of weeks. Finally, he was cut down from his bonds by his tormentors, "he is no good to us dead," a wicked voice said. Hama struck the man, knocking him out. Hama had the blood of his father in him and his might was fantastic. A second attacker was beaten before the bloodied and the exhausted prince escaped. He found a horse and quickly made his escape. His ride was of great adventure, evading enemies lurking in the shadows. Finally, he made it the Hornberg in the middle of the driving snow.  
  
"You live!" exclaimed King Helm. Hama was too weak after his journey and collapsed into his father's loving arms. "He meant to use me as a pawn father," Helm was shocked at his son's words. Wulf was proving o be a cunning foe. The cold was becoming unbearable now, Helm asked Frealaf to have Hama placed in the warmest possible place in the fortress.  
  
Weeks went bye; his cousin and his father visited Hama every day, even as frostbite took hold of all of them. Hama, too weak from his beatings and his condition to survive the weather died in the company of his father.  
  
Helm, a might man, could not fight back the tears. "It has been terrible to have lost you once Hama, now I must lose you again." Frealaf placed his warm hand on his uncle's shoulder. He could feel the cold and the sorrow in his uncle. "I am hear for you uncle," the noble nephew said. "You must leave this place," Helm said. "We shall not long survive this weather. You must go, find shelter, find men. When the dawn comes we will ride out together. You must get to Harrowdale. We will have loyal men there to follow you" the king encouraged."  
  
Frealaf took a small force and met his uncle just on the inside of the great wall. "No matter what happens to me, you must go, do not stop," Frealaf heard these fatalistic words. "You do seem to talk as if you were to die," the young man said. "There are times when a king knows his line is at an end, you are the hope of our people now." The king said as he embraced his nephew. Suddenly, Helm shot up in his saddle, let the horn sound in the Deeping Valley, may our enemies howl in despair. 


	3. To Harrowdale and the Passing of Helm

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns everything! That is why no movie company ever asked for the rights to any of this from me.  
  
Chapter 3: To Harrowdale and the death of a King.  
  
The giant gate of the Hornberg swung open, the deep notes of the horn trembled the snow from the mountains, Helm lead his riders in a charge against their foe that laid outside the fortress.  
  
Frealaf was with the thundering horsemen during the charge. However, he had a separate mission. "You are to immediately break away from the attack and go to Harrowdale," he remembered his royal uncle saying before the attack. He was told that reinforcements would be waiting.  
  
The Dunlandings were not that big of a party. Many have gone to Edoras, for the winter was harsh on them also and has taken many of their lives. The attack actually drove off many of the enemy, but spear and hoof claimed their fair share as well. The frostbitten riders of Rohan once again showed that they were far from a beaten force.  
  
Frealaf, broke through during the melee and began his ride to Harrowdale. Helm, sat in his stirrups watching his nephew pass from site. He ordered the dead to be taken inside; the ground was too hard to dig graves. He was tired, cold and even his strength was failing. The great king knew his time was coming near.  
  
Arriving at Harrowdale, Frealaf was cheered as he passed through the streets. Many familiar faces at the town greeted him, all of which were anxious for news. Tendriel and Gram were there with their men. The young captain met with his lieutenants upon his arrival. "Helm has a force in the Hornberg, I am sure others are still out there. Wulf is in Edoras with an unknown force.  
  
"May of the people are dying because of the cold," Gram continued, "We are running low on firewood." Frealaf knew all that they could hope for was to hold out a couple of more weeks. The weather was not as harsh as it was earlier in the winter. "We shall ration all we have left," he told the officers. He knew that the tide was to turn with the weather.  
  
However, there was less cheer elsewhere in Rohan. Shortly after Frealaf left for Harrowdale, Helm, the last of his line, died of the cold. The people in the Deeping Valley cried many tears for their King. Would they have no choice left, but to submit to Wulf? Who could they now trust to lead them?  
  
To be continued. 


End file.
